The Return
by Jael K
Summary: A short little one-shot fix-it. Just because a hero goes away doesn't mean he'll never return...


So, the news out of San Diego Comic Con has me pretty down. I can't believe they're going to recon Snart's entire character arc. And that CaptainCanary wasn't even mentioned.

So I wrote a thing. Unbetaed. All mistakes are mine.  
….

For the first time, Sara truly understands Kendra.

She and … she'd given her friend so much shit for her choice not to kill Savage when Carter's life hung in the balance. They … she'd taken that inability as such weakness. She'd taken a drink of Rob Roy's scotch and … shaken her head and…

But now. Now, no one on the ship thinks _she_ made the right decision. Not even Mick, although he ultimately backed her up. But they did allow her to do it, which implies something, anyway.

The man sprawled out unconscious on her bed is weaponless, now. By all rights, he should be in the brig, and they all know it. He's tried to kill them multiple times. He's a member of the unfortunately named Legion of Doom.

But he is also Leonard Snart.

And she is positive that _this time_ she saw a flicker of memory in his eyes … right before she knocked him out.

She insisted on putting him here. They're all still shell-shocked enough, even after seeing this double of their friend fighting alongside their enemies, that they allow her to do so.

It's a very bad idea.

She knows it.

Until only hours ago, none of them knew if this is the Leonard Snart that they'd known (apparently with no memory of them) or if it's some alternate reality version, like… other members of the Legion. Gideon has now confirmed the former–his right hand is of her own construction.

And she saw the flare in his eyes.

She _knows_ she did.

She knows the others think she's seeing things, that they're expecting him to wake up and attack…again. Mick is waiting right outside the door, just in case. But…if there's any hope…

Across the room, he groans. A hand goes to his temple.

She wants to go to his side, but instead, her hands just tense on her staff. If he rushes her, he'll be down for the count immediately.

"What…the…hell…"

It _sounds_ like him. Her knuckles are white on the staff.

She can see his eyes flicker open, stare at the ceiling. She can even see his brow furrow.

Then he rolls his head to the side and looks at her.

She can't breathe.

"Sara?"

The Snart they'd fought had given no indication of knowing her given name. And he says it the way …the way…

A noise that's very like a sob escapes her.

His brow furrows further, and then he tries to sit up. "What…?"

It takes everything in her to keep her distance. "What do you remember?"

"The Oculus … the Time Masters …" It's too much; he sinks back down to the bed, only to turn his head to look at her again. "You…kissed me."

Slowly, slowly, she steps forward. "You don't remember anything after that?"

"Bad dream…"

A tiny huff of unamused laughter escapes her. "No. It wasn't."

"Someone… recruited me? For a team. Not this one." He frowns. "Jesus, who came up with that name? Even Ramon did better than that."

She takes another step.

"I … fought you. The team. Mick. You." Abruptly, he tries to sit up again, manages it this time, but winces in pain. "Sara…"

"Hey. Sit still. You have a concussion."

"You gave it to me, didn't you? And I deserved it." His mouth twists.

She's within reach now. He watches her, but doesn't move.

"I'm sorry. I didn't remember. _Anything_." He frowns. "Darhk. Merlyn. Siren. Jesus, Sara …"

The pain in his voice–on her behalf, she realizes– finally undoes her. Taking a deep breath, she meets his eyes.

It's him.

She's never been so sure of anything in her life as she is of that.

And then the staff is ringing off the floor and she's folded in his arms and she's crying, sobbing like she hadn't since Laurel, the REAL Laurel, died. He's holding her in a way he never got the chance to before, so gently, one arm wrapped around her, his other hand running through her hair.

Eventually, she pulls back, just a little, wiping at her eyes, trying to be pragmatic. Trying, for both their sakes, to put these feelings back in their box. "Do you remember anything else about them? We could use the help."

"I do." His smile is genuine in a way she's rarely gotten to see. "But, Sara, first…"

And then he's pulling her close again, kissing her, driving all the worries, all the fear and the pain of the past couple months away, even if just for a while.

Her hell of a thief.

* * *

"Anything?"

Mick shakes his head from where he's leaning against the wall opposite the closed door to Sara's room. "No, Haircut. Again. Not a peep."

"Oh. That's good…right?" Ray makes himself comfortable leaning against the same wall.

"Well, it means he hasn't attacked her. She'd have kicked his ass and yelled for us to drag him out of there. And Gideon would have said something."

Ray frowns. "Gideon? Is … uh, Snart even awake?"

The pause is brief, but they both detect it. "He is, Dr. Palmer."

Both men glance at each other. Mick straights from his slouch. "Sara's all right?"

"Ms. Lance … is fine."

"And Snart?"

Another pause. "He seems well."

It's rather imprecise for the AI. "Seems, Gideon?"

The pause is longer. Then Gideon speaks again, sounding almost prim.  
"There is … kissing… going on, Mr. Rory. I was attempting to give them a modicum of privacy."

Both men turn to look at each other. Then Mick barks out a laugh, claps Ray on the back so hard the slighter man nearly staggers.

"Come on, Haircut. Let's go tell the others we have Snart back."


End file.
